Dear Uncle Press
by Kuramastrass
Summary: The sequel to "The Truth". Bobby writes a letter to his Uncle Press, telling him that he's done the most unforgivable thing: joined Saint Dane and left the Travelers. But, wait... there's more to that than just finding out his feelings for Saint Dane?


**In order to not confuse people, I figured I should mention a few things.**

**Number one, this appears centered to me. I don't know why. I keep aligning on the left, but... I hope it shows up correctly on the site.**

**Number two, this is a one-shot.**

**Number three, this is the sequel to The Truth.**

**Number four, Bobby did exactly as he did in The Pilgrims of Rayne. Only, instead of trying to stop Saint Dane, he did it to help him out. See, because now the only way off Ibara is to dig up the flume in Rubic City, and then he can do his Saint-Dane-thing and bring all that other stuff from the other territories and no one would know. Even better, since Bobby is still technically playing the part of the good guy, the Travelers are unwittingly helping Saint Dane!**

**Isn't it the greatest?**

**I don't own Pendragon or the song "Numb" by Linkin Park.**

**This was the whole reason I wrote The Truth in the first place. I was listening to Numb one day, when I realized that it sounded like a perfect Pendragon-fic. song.**

**I really do think Bobby should join Saint Dane. And besides that they do make a really cute (if not really weird) couple, I think it's more in-character for him to jump ship. He's too frustrated with his Uncle Press and the whole situation in general, as I try to point out.**

**Let's face it. Press is really frustrating. It really sucked when he died, because then it was like, "Fuck. What do we do now? Bobby has no mentor and has to be all on his own... And since his Uncle Press didn't tell him jack shit while he _was_ alive, we're screwed. Halla's doomed."**

**Well, yeah. ****That's about it.**

**And now, my next Pendragon project will be the prequel to The Truth, in which I chronicle the adventures of Press, Dane, Rosalita, Osa, and the other Travelers of the last generation. It'll be a while, but keep an eye out for it. It'll probably be called "Children of Halla" or something like that.**

**So, enough stalling. Enjoy "Dear Uncle Press"! Reviews are a great and wonderful thing to recieve. So give one. Thanks in advance.**

It was a nice day on Ibara, just like every other day, pretty much. It was sunny, a little windy, and about a hundred and fifty degrees. (Well, if you were measuring by Second Earth temperatures, at least.)

I was by myself, out on a rock in the middle of nowhere. I could see – and hear – the ocean. It was calm today, like every other day.

And I could also hear someone walking up behind me.

Slow, confident strides. Heavy footsteps. It was probably...

"Hello, Pendragon."

Yup. Saint Dane.

"Hey."

"What are you doing up here?"

I shrugged. "I was going to write a journal. Since I never got any angry replies from Mark and Courtney, I figure they must still care."

He chuckled and sat down next to me. "You came out here alone to do that?"

I was quiet.

"This seems like a nice place to think. There isn't much to think about, when you write a journal."

I sighed. He was right. "There was something else I was going to do first."

"And that would be..."

"I was going to write a letter to my Uncle Press."

He was silent at first, but soon, he was chuckling again. "And how do you plan to deliver it to him?"

I playfully smacked my right palm against my forehead, fake shock on my face. "That's _right_," I said sarcastically. "I _totally_ forgot you killed him."

He chuckled a little at my sarcasm, but then he said, "Press isn't really dead, you know."

"I figured as much."

We were silent again. Then I asked, "I can send it like I would a regular journal, right?"

"Of course." Then he stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"To leave you alone to write your letter." He smiled. "Besides, I have things to do."

"Like what? We're trapped here."

"Exactly. I'm going to dig for the flume buried in the ruins of Rubic City."

"Oh. Okay, then."

Then he left, and I started to work on my letter.

_Dear Uncle Press..._

_I'm tired of being what you want me to be..._

You never told me anything. You just threw me into being a Traveler without giving me anything more than a few vague responses.

And with no more than a few vague responses and the Traveler's mantra – "This is how it was meant to be" – you somehow expect me to lead a battle to save Halla – everything that is and ever was.

_Feeling so faithless..._

How can _this_ be how it was meant to be, Uncle Press? Me, lead the fight against Saint Dane? I'm just a normal teenager from Stony Brook. And he's... he's a demon from who-knows-where.

How do I even stand a chance?

_Lost under the surface..._

I feel like I'm drowning. I'm trying to fight a battle I have no chance of winning.

_Don't know what you're expecting of me..._

I don't know what you want me to do. I never really got it.

I mean, I _know_ you want me to stop Saint Dane. You want me to save Halla. You want me to take every turning point and turn each territory towards prosperity.

Don't you think that's a lot to ask of me? Me, Bobby Pendragon, teenager from Stony Brook? How do you expect me to do all that?

_Put under the pressure... of walking in your shoes..._

You were the lead Traveler in your generation, right? And you want me to follow in your footsteps. You expect _me_ to be the new lead Traveler.

But I don't think I'm the right person. I'll never be able to fill your shoes.

_Every step that I take... is another mistake... to you..._

All you ever did was point out what I was doing wrong. When we were on Denduron, my first territory... you remember, don't you, Uncle Press?

Okay, I'll admit that it was stupid to bring the batteries. _It was stupid._ I know you told me that we aren't supposed to mix the territories, but what else was I supposed to _do_? They were going to _kill _you.

I saved your _life_.

A little thanks would have been nice. "Oh, thanks for saving my life, Bobby. Ice cream on me, if we ever get back to Second Earth." But _no_, you decided to yell at me and lecture me about the batteries.

Which I know I deserved. I didn't listen to you. You told me to never, ever, mix the territories.

But I never even got a single, muttered thanks.

_I've... become so numb... I can't feel you there..._

_Become so tired... so much more... aware..._

_By becoming this... all I want to do..._

_Is be more like me..._

_And be less like you._

_Can't you see that you're smothering me?_

You keep repeating the same things. "This is how it's meant to be," you said. "The territories can never be mixed," you said.

_Holding too tightly... afraid to lose... control..._

Did you ever stop to think about those things? Did you hear them and accept them as the truth? Or did you question them first?

I had a teacher when I was still on Second Earth... He told us to never accept anything. We had to question _everything_ if we wanted the truth.

I've questioned you a lot. When things were the worst, when I had the least hope, I questioned you and everything the Travelers stand for.

How could this be the way things were meant to be? If this is the way things were meant to be, then why do we have to _make_ it that way?

And what if you were wrong? _Why_ can't the territories be mixed? What if they're _supposed_ to be mixed?

What if _that_ is the way things are meant to be?

_'Cause everything that you thought... I would be..._

_Has fallen apart... right in front... of you..._

I haven't done everything the way you would have. I've resorted to Saint Dane's tricks. I've mixed the territories.

Ibara? I took the drilling machines from Zadaa to Denduron, to dig for tak. I took crates and crates of tak to Ibara, and I used the tak to permanently close the flume.

That went against everything you taught me. Everything the Travelers stand for.

But it's what I thought was best. I thought it would stop Saint Dane. I thought that by that, I could save Halla.

_Every step that I take... is another mistake... to you..._

If you were still here, you'd be yelling at me and lecturing me right now, wouldn't you?

_And every second I waste... is more than I can take!_

I waste so much time worrying about what you'd think of what I'm doing. About what you'd would say to me if you were still here.

But you're _not_ here. I don't have anyone to help me out. I have to figure out everything by myself. There's no one I can look to for answers, because I'm the lead Traveler. I'm the guy that's supposed to _have_ the answers.

And I'm not going to worry about what you think anymore.

You aren't here.

And I don't care anymore.

_I've... become so numb... I can't feel you there..._

_Become so tired... so much more... aware..._

_By becoming this... all I want to do..._

_Is be more like me..._

_And be less like you._

_And I know..._

I know everything, Uncle Press.

_I may... end... up... failing... too!_

You failed her, didn't you? You failed the Traveler that taught you. Your mom.

_But I know... you were just like me..._

You were just like me. A normal kid from good old Stony Brook, Connecticut. You were thrown into Traveler life one day, just like me. You were told that one day you'd see your family again – not how, or when, or where, just that you would. You were told "This is how it is meant to be" and "The territories must never be mixed."

And whatever she said, you believed.

_With someone... disappointed... in you!_

If she saw you now, what you've done, she'd be disappointed, wouldn't she?

If she saw how you raised me as a Traveler, what would she say?

If she saw me, and what I've done, would that change how she sees you?

You tried to raise me better than she had you. You wanted me to make up for your failures.

After all, if the Traveler _you_ raised becomes the one to save Halla, that makes everything better, right?

_I've... become so numb... I can't feel you there..._

I've become almost numb to the thought of you. I don't care what you think about me anymore.

_Become so tired... so much more... aware..._

I'm tired, Uncle Press. I'm tired of trying to please you, to do what you would have done.

And I'm aware now, of your past, why you so firmly believe in the vague Traveler mantras, why you acted the way you did. It hasn't made you any less guilty in my eyes – it's only made me believe that I'm right to feel the way I do.

_By becoming this... all I want to do..._

_Is be more like me..._

_And be less like you._

I want to be my own person. I want to work for the good of Halla – who _doesn't?_ – but I'm done doing it _your_ way. I'm doing it _my_ way now.

I've found someone who will let me do that.

Saint Dane. Remember him, Uncle Press? Your best friend, Dane?

He isn't evil. He's working for the good of Halla.

And he doesn't expect me to be anything that I'm not. I do have to do certain things, but I know they're for the good of Halla. And if I can't do it, if I fail, he doesn't lecture me.

_I've... become so numb... I can't feel you there..._

_I'm tired of being what you want me to be._

I've done things your way long enough. You always had plans for me, but you never told me anything.

_I've... become so numb... I can't feel you there..._

_I'm tired of being what you want me to be._

I'm sorry I failed you, Uncle Press. But I want to be who _I_ want to be. You never gave me that chance; you were always trying to make me who _you_ wanted me to be.

But Saint Dane _has_ given me that chance.

He's working toward a better Halla. Just because he's against the Travelers, does that automatically make him _evil?_ Does that automatically make his way _wrong?_

I don't think so.

I've decided to make Loor the new lead Traveler. You know, I always thought she deserved the position. She's stronger than me, a better fighter, better at making tough decisions. and better at working under stress.

I guess I just wasn't cut out to be the lead Traveler. I don't think you chose wrong; it's just that that wasn't the way things were meant to be.

I'm sorry I failed you. You were always almost like... my hero. I hate knowing that I've disappointed you.

But I firmly believe that _this_ is the way things were meant to be.

– Bobby

I finished writing my letter and then read it over three times. I was fully prepared to re-write the whole thing if I found even one mistake. The last thing I wanted was to send a letter like this to my Uncle Press and have mistakes in it.

Not only would he hate me and think I was whiny or self-centered or whatever, I would look incredibly stupid.

Finally I got ready to send it. Not sure what to tell the ring, I yelled out, "Uncle Press!"

And what do you know. It worked.

And that was that. I'd joined the dark side, and I'd told my Uncle Press. And I let him know exactly why.

I picked my ring back up and put it back on. Then I straightened up. I took a deep breath, looking out at the sea for a moment.

I hadn't written the journal I'd been planning to write today, but I had other things to do now.

Digging up the flume in Rubic City was going to take a long time. Even though I was part of the Tribunal, and I really should be helping rebuild the village, getting a way to get off this territory was really the first priority. I should at least offer to help.

I took another deep breath. I had only been doing this for a few days, so I wasn't that great at it. I took a few steps back from the edge of rock; the last thing I wanted to do was fall down that. Magical Traveler healing powers or not, a broken neck didn't sound like fun.

And then I exhaled. As I let out that breath, I let go of everything else - cleared my mind, calmed my spirit.

And Bobby Pendragon, ex-lead Traveler, disappeared. And in his place, there was a deep black raven, taking flight. It circled a few times, slowly climbing higher, and then flew toward the ruins of what had once been Rubic City.

- Kuramastrass -


End file.
